


and you'll live as you've never lived before

by fullmetalruby



Series: febslash fembruary [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Courting Rituals, F/F, Femslash February 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalruby/pseuds/fullmetalruby
Summary: In which Dorothea and Edelgard have simultaneous lesbian panics over each other in the midst of a country at war while dealing with societally-appropriate conservative courting rituals.[Femslash February 2021 | Day 2 | Pride]
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: febslash fembruary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139714
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	and you'll live as you've never lived before

**Author's Note:**

> i cant write the naruto ladies in character to save my life but apparently super repressive courting rituals come to me naturally
> 
> written for femslash february @femslashfeb on tumblr
> 
> title comes from "music of the night" from the phantom of the opera by andrew lloyd webber

It begins with flowers, as it so often does.

Dorothe Arnault,  _ prima donna _ of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, is no stranger to finding flowers in her dressing room. Lavish arrangements of expensive roses and lilies and others that Dorothea can’t name, in blown-glass or hand-sculpted vases with sumptuous ribbons of silk and velvet. After years in this profession she’s grown accustomed to setting them aside and writing polite, but dismissive thank-you notes whenever there’s a return address-- some of these men get it into their heads that Dorothea will just know who they are, and leave no name, which is just as well for her. It means she can put them and their stupid flowers from her mind.

On her dressing room table, once she clears away three of the ostentatious things, she finds a posy of poppies.

She’s had her fair share of smaller bouquets like this, as well. Another subset of men who want her attention, but this time who think they’re being romantic by being minimalist. In the end, they’re just as bad, and receive the same treatment-- a note and their name wiped from Dorothea’s memory.

All the same, Dorothea picks up the note with the posy, and is surprised to find it in a familiar hand.

_ Dearest Dorothea, _

_ I know you must receive letters like this all the time. You’ve complained about such things before, and yet I can think of no other way to confess to you how I feel. _

_ Red poppies, like these before you, often symbolize remembrance and death, but they’re also used to make opium. As I’m sure you’re aware. But looking at them only ever makes me think of you-- so bright, so beautiful. Relaxing, decadent, and addictive, like opium. _

_ Allow me to be clear. I have spent these past years in your company savoring every moment I can draw from you. Being in your presence makes me light-headed, and yet I have never felt so content as I am when I am with you. You are my bright star, Dorothea. If you would so allow, it would be among the highest honors of my life to be permitted to court you. _

_ You know where to find me, should you be amiable. _

_ your Edie _

She has to sit down. Dorothea presses a hand to her chest, to check that her heart hasn’t jackrabbit itself out and into the ether while she wasn’t looking. She reads over the note again, and a third time, and then a fourth just to be sure. But this is no trick. That’s her Edelgard’s handwriting, and that’s her perfume on the thick paper, on the stationary which Dorothea helped her pick out. And that’s--  _ oh _ , that’s a ribbon from her hair tying the flowers into a bunch.

Jolting back to herself, Dorothea looks around her dressing room for something, anything she can use to make a heartfelt response to what is only the most amazing thing that Dorothea could imagine. She can’t use  _ that _ stationary to write a response, it’s the same stationary she uses to tell people she’s  _ not _ interested, and Edelgard knows it (more importantly, though, Hubert knows it, and would likely make sure what he assumed to be a heartbreaking response never made it to Edelgard’s desk). She’s not so gauche as to send one of the bouquets she has on hand, no matter how efficient it would be.

Her eyes drop back to the posy of poppies.

Sticking her head out of the room, she calls a valet to summon a carriage. To take her to the Imperial Palace, immediately. She retreats back into her room and gets to work.

She continues her work on the carriage ride to the palace, half as something to do with her hands and half because this has to be perfect. What kind of lover would she be if she gave a half-assed gift in response to such a whole-hearted one? Dorothea wouldn’t even be able to force herself past Edie’s front door without something spectacular. And this will do the trick.

She tips the carriage driver handsomely when she arrives, and tells him not to wait for her. She slips inside the dark halls of the palace. Her only companions are the various servants on their way out. And Hubert. Because when is Hubert not around?

“I see that you received it, then?” He drawls. His office is only a minute or so away from Edelgard’s, and Dorothea has to pass it on the way in, including the door which he leaves open for the express purpose of keeping an eye on anyone who wants to reach the Emperor.

“Do you often state the obvious when you’re sleep deprived?” She’s not particularly close with Hubert, despite having spent so much time with him, and what exists of their relationship is built on perfectly normal levels of antagonism. “I assume by your insistent presence that Edelgard is still in her office?”

“You assume correctly.” He looks back down at his papers. “She’s finishing up a meeting with Ferdinand at the moment, if you can find it within yourself to wait.”

As fun as bursting in on a military spending meeting in order to confess her undying love for the emperor would be, Dorothea can in fact find it within herself to wait. She always has time to annoy Hubert while he’s supposed to be working.

She swans into his office and nudges the door halfway on her way in. He scowls at her, and she smiles back. There’s something new in the air, literally-- a scent that she knows, but not from his office.

“That’s a lovely scent, Hubert. Is it a new perfume?”

His scowl, his resting expression, shifts into something more…  _ embarrassed.  _ A pout, a slight blush, even. He knows she recognizes the perfume.

“I could have sworn Ferdie was wearing it the last time I spoke to him. Did you go perfume shopping together? Without me? You’ll have to bring me with you next time, I know all the best perfumeries in the city.”

Theirs is a game built on being terrible, awful, and condescending to each other at every turn. Not many people have the gall to be rude to either one of them. She can see the gears turning in his head as how to best make her regret being in his presence. “A kind offer, one which I will have to decline. Tragically, dear Ferdie and I only frequent reputable establishments.”

“Then you will have to bring me with anyway, so I can see these reputable establishments you speak of. I’ve certainly never seen you at any of the places I can name.”

“Hubert!”

Ferdinand, cheerful even at this godforsaken hour, bounds into the room. Tucked under one arm is a sheaf of papers that are probably important, but Dorothea couldn’t care less about what state secrets Ferdinand is carrying. The moment it registers in her head that a) Edelgard is free, and b) Hubert is now thoroughly occupied by the Prime Minister, she makes an absent goodbye to the two men and absconds to Edelgard’s office.

Unlike Hubert’s deliberately poorly-lit, grim cave, Edelgard’s office is full of light. Two sconces are lit on the walls, and another candle is burning on the desk. The heavy velvet drapes are drawn shut behind her, and between the light of the candles and the dark curtains, Edelgard is radiant. Her gold-and-ruby circlet, the one for everyday use, is still woven into her bone-white hair, braided out of her face but half left to tumble down over one broad shoulder. If Dorothea was any good with a brush, she would commit this moment to canvas.

“Edie?”

That white head shoots up to look at her, and all at once the excitement which had abated as she languished in Hubert’s company returned twofold.

“Dorothea! I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Edelgard moves from her seat, but Dorothea is already halfway across the room to her. By the time Edelgard is standing, Dorothea is already before her, dragging her by the hand back into her ornate chair and then collapsing to the ground at her feet.

She lays her creation on Edelgard’s knee. The headband Dorothea had on was wrapped wire, and into it she’d woven the poppies. The vibrant red of the flowers and the gold of the headband are stark against the black satin of Edelgard’s dress.

“I received your letter, and your flowers. I came here as fast as I could. Let me finish.” Dorothea lifts one hand from her lap to tap a finger against Edelgard’s lips. She has to lean in further to do so, press herself even closer to her emperor. 

“Never before in my life has a gift from a suitor stole the breath from my lungs. Seeing your gift there made my heart race more than battle ever has. I looked at the flowers and all I could think of was you. In your coronation gown. You were  _ resplendent _ , Edelgard. If I had to pick a moment that I fell in love with you, it would be when I saw you on the battlefield at Garreg Mach, leading your people against the Church. I know you don’t put stock in such things, but it seemed as if the Goddess’ favor had abandoned the Church and instead been bestowed on you. You shone greater than any jewel I’ve ever seen. I don’t have a comparable jewel to offer you, but I can give you this.” 

Dorothea rises up on her knees and sets the makeshift crown in Edelgard’s hair. The flowers are broad enough to cover her circlet.

“Will it do?”

A breath leaves Edelgard’s chest in a half-laugh, half-sob. “I’ll treasure it forever.” She lifts one of Dorothea’s hands with her own, and presses her lips to the bare knuckles. Her lips are soft, When she pulls back, Dorothea can see a stain from her makeup.

Dorothea isn’t sure how much time passes, her on her knees between Edelgard’s thighs, watching the Emperor press reverent kisses to her hand, but eventually kisses turn into gasps, and those gasps turn into flustered little giggles.

“Not that I’m not thrilled, but… what inspired you to make this admission to me?” Dorothea whispers.

The question makes Edelgard focus, and she reaches into a drawer of her desk. She shows Dorothea a letter. “I received this from Linhardt three days ago. He says that he and Caspar wish to be married, but since we’re still… figuring out who can and cannot perform marriages--”

“They want you to perform it for them?” Dorothea interrupts. She’s a fast reader.

Ever since the Adrestian Empire’s formal split with the church, Edelgard has been introducing all sorts of reforms. Many of them are bureaucracy shenanigans that Dorothea couldn’t be interested in if she tried, but one of the most controversial was Edelgard’s legalization of same-sex marriages. The Church of Seiros, being obsessed with Crests as they were,  _ heavily encouraged _ the passing on of said Crests, and as such banned any couples that could not ‘naturally procreate’ from being married in the eyes of the Church. And with the status of the clergy up in the air now, with many of their rights revoked, many things, such as who can and can’t officiate marriages, are still being ironed out. But one thing is very clear-- Edelgard, as the Emperor, has always been able to perform marriages.

“They do.” The smile in her voice is audible. “I suppose they reminded me that such things are an option for me now.”

Edelgard nods. It will be nice to see something go right for someone. The war has been taxing on everyone involved, and Caspar has been no exception. Second son though he may be, he’s devoted to upholding his family’s honor under the Ministry of Military Affairs. And Linhardt has been by his side the whole time. They’ve been dancing around marriage since before Dorothea met them. She’s honestly surprised it took them so long to get around to it. There’s undoubtedly a story behind the decision that Dorothea can’t  _ wait _ to wheedle out of them when she next sees them.

“Are they coming here?”

“Better that they come here than for me to go to Fort Merceus. I would never convince Hubert to allow it.”

Ah, yes. However seriously anyone else takes their duties, no-one compares to Hubert’s nearly obsessive protectiveness over Edelgard. It’s almost even justified.

Dorothea tries to pull Edelgard in for a kiss, and Dorothea can feel when she gasps into it. After such a bare taste of Edelgard’s lips, Dorothea never wants to separate from them again.

“And you call me addictive,” she breathes into the space between them.

“You are,” Edelgard responds. She pulls away from the kiss and stands, pulling Dorothea up with her by the hands. Her pale face is bright pink. “But I’m going to do this right.”

“I can certainly think of a right way.” Dorothea smiles and leans back in. Kneeling, of course, Edelgard was taller than her, but now she has to bend down to meet Edelgard’s lips.

“ _ Thea _ .” Edelgard admonishes. “I will escort you back to your residence. I will leave you at the door. If I am feeling especially scandalous, I’ll leave you with a kiss on the cheek.”

Oh, dear Edie. Of course she’d be so uptight about things like this.

“I think I should find that acceptable.”

* * *

The gossip, of course, explodes overnight.

When Dorothea returns the next day to the opera house she’s assaulted by the chorus and co-stars and directors, all demanding to know why she was seen in such an intimate setting with the emperor last night. She confirms it without a second thought-- she has nothing to hide. Not anymore.

And after that, nothing is the same. Flowers that she receives after performances are not only just for her anymore-- now, they also come with notes for Edelgard, pleas for wealth and status. The arrangements are even more elaborate than ever, and they number so many as to spill out into the hall. 

But of course, the flowers aren’t the only thing to change in the wake of Edelgard’s confession. Even when Dorothea tries to dismiss Hubert or Ferdinand or Bernadetta or whoever happens to be around, they remain while Dorothea is trying to have a private moment. It isn’t until the third time that Dorothea spots Hubert while she’s having tea in the garden with Edelgard that she finally says something.

“Don’t you have better places to be?”

Hubert scoffs. “Certainly not. Do you actually expect me to leave you alone?”

Hre eyes narrow. “Wouldn’t you want to be left alone with Ferdinand?”

His cheekbones wash with color, and he looks completely taken aback. Hand-to-the-chest, pearl-clutching  _ scadalization _ crosses his features. “Under  _ no _ circumstances,” he hisses. “I would never besmirch--”

“That would be unacceptable.” Edelgard interjects, equally horrified. “Ferdinand’s honor would never recover from such a thing.”

For a brief second, Dorothea’s heart plummets. Then it soars again. “That’s what this is about?” She breathes. “My honor?”

“Imagine the scandal!” Edelgard exclaims. “I would never be able to forgive myself if I was seen with you without a chaperone. What would people say? Your reputation would be ruined. I could never do that to you.”

Dorothea grabs Edelgard’s hand across the table and begins peppering the back of it with kisses. “How mad would Linhardt and Caspar be if we got married before they did?”

Smiling one of those cute little smiles that makes Dorothea’s heart flutter in her chest, Edelgard curls her fingers around Dorothea’s. “Let’s not give poor Hubert a heart attack, please? He has enough on his plate without having to plan a royal wedding, and I would hate to add ‘find a new Minister of the Imperial Household’ to my to-do-list.”

“When the war is over, then. It can double as a post-war celebration.”

“When the war is over, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> once again i do not know how to end fics but im doing this for free so i really dont fucking care
> 
> apparently my brand for femslash is "ladies having crises and also their guy friends are there being unhelpful"
> 
> check me out on tumblr @fullmetalruby


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